


Beyond the Fog

by CarmillaCarmine



Series: Ballads of a Witcher and a Bard [7]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier Whump Week (The Witcher), Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Men Crying, Old Age, Old Jaskier | Dandelion, POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Regrets, Retirement, no one dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:08:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24093367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarmillaCarmine/pseuds/CarmillaCarmine
Summary: Geralt visits Jaskier in his retirement and they finally talk about their feelings.Title inspired by a scene from Sword of Destiny book, where Geralt talks to Death.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Ballads of a Witcher and a Bard [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1710100
Comments: 51
Kudos: 317
Collections: Interesting Character and/or Interesting Relationship Development, Jaskier Whump Week





	Beyond the Fog

**Author's Note:**

> “We know each other,” he agreed. “They say that you follow in my steps.”  
> “I go my own way. But you, you had never, until just now, looked behind you. You turned back today for the first time.”  
> Geralt remained silent. Tired, he had nothing to say.  
> “How... How will it happen?” he asked her at last, coldly and without emotion.  
> “I will take you by the hand,” she replied, looking him straight in the eye. “I will take you by the hand and lead you across the meadow, through a cold and wet fog.”  
> “And after? What is there beyond the fog?”  
> “Nothing,” she replied, smiling. “After that, there is nothing.” 
> 
> \- Geralt talking to Death, in Sword of Destiny
> 
> Special thanks to [brodeurbunny30](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brodeurbunny30)  
> for beta work.

It had been several years since Geralt last visited his old friend. For a long time, it had been difficult to travel alone again after the decades he’d spent with Jaskier by his side. They’d finally parted ways, with no small amount of heartbreak, when Jaskier had decided to retire several years prior. 

Riding towards Jaskier’s house, Geralt recalled the story of how first it came to be theirs. During one of their adventures they’d stayed with a woman they’d helped and Jaskier had loved her house so much. When news of the lady’s passing had reached them, they’d come back to purchase the place only to find that she had already left it in both their names. 

Since then, whenever they’d taken a break from monster killing, they’d spend a few weeks in the house Geralt eventually started to call home. It was the only true home he’d ever had in his adult life. That had little to do with the place itself, and a lot to do with the memories of the times spent in it with the person he was about to see. He had never pictured himself as finally settling down, or retiring, but the time he’d spent with Jaskier in the house, talking, reading books, planting vegetables and herbs in the garden, had been so carefree; it made him wish he had the courage to never leave. However, the time had always come when he’d felt that he’d been disturbing Jaskier’s retirement long enough. Jaskier clearly enjoyed his visits, as he’d always greeted him with a smile, but Geralt was unable to sense if his presence wasn’t just reminding Jaskier that he wasn’t young anymore and couldn’t get lost in adventures like he’d used to. Under the pretense of needing to travel and kill monsters, he would leave, even if a part of his heart stayed with his friend. Jaskier had never offered for Geralt to stay longer, and Geralt would never impose. However, deep down, Geralt knew that one word from Jaskier and he would settle in the house with his friend until Jaskier’s last days. 

At the thought of seeing Jaskier again, Geralt rushed Roach to go faster, and they galloped through the woods to reach the cosy house by the mountains. 

Geralt’s heart was pounding with anticipation when he knocked on the ornate wooden door. 

A silver-haired man opened it, and warm affection flooded Geralt’s system as he recognized his best friend. The smile on the man’s face lifted the veil of his wrinkles and tired eyes to show the true Jaskier underneath, who now inhabited an old body. In Geralt’s mind, he was now looking at the bright-eyed, flamboyant youth who paid no heed nor thought to imminent danger that travelling alongside a witcher offered. 

Jaskier’s smile never wavered as he took a step back to let Geralt inside.

“I gather you received my last letter,” Jaskier opened the conversation indicating a chair for Geralt to sit on as he ventured into the small kitchen to put the kettle on the stove. 

“Uhh, no, actually, I was just passing by and decided to visit,” Geralt lied through his teeth. In truth, he had travelled eleven days straight to get here since the moment he’d realised that he missed Jaskier too much to go any further. 

Jaskier turned to him, frowning. His wise eyes, eyes that had seen far too much for a human, inspected Geralt’s face, taking in his filthy clothes. 

He nodded once as if he had come to a conclusion, then wordlessly dropped leaves into a pot before pouring boiling water over them. He brought out bread, lard, and smoked meat on a wooden board for Geralt, but served himself nothing.

“Well then,” Jaskier clapped his hands together, “tell me everything,” he said, that familiar excitement clear in his voice as he sat across the table, facing Geralt.

Those were the same words he’d always spoken whenever Geralt visited him in his retirement, but this time, there was no quill and paper in front of his friend. 

Geralt watched Jaskier’s empty hands tremble over the table until he put them on his lap and out of sight.

Piercing pain blasted through Geralt’s chest, the sharp pang reminiscent of the time he had accidentally been stepped on by a startled Roach after being ambushed in the woods. This time, however, the pain he felt was deeper. 

Jaskier, now unable to write down his ballads, must be hurting even more. 

Humouring his friend, as he always had, Geralt told of his latest adventures in a jumbled collection of facts. Oh how he’d missed the easy evenings filled with talk and laughter that always accompanied them on their travels together. He spoke, sipped the herbal tea and felt his entire being fill with warmth at the mere presence of his companion. 

Jaskier sat mesmerised, his eyes shining with the same interest and youth they’d held decades ago. He asked a million and one questions, gesturing wildly, and shouting in disbelief. In the process, he was giving Geralt a fair amount of shit for not elaborating enough and not giving him sufficient details, despite the fact that he was not writing any of it down…

All too soon, the evening came to an end.

Geralt knew every nook and cranny in the house; he’d spent weeks here on and off between his travels. Taking advantage of this knowledge, he drew himself a bath after Jaskier retired to his room. Upon entering his own room, Geralt noticed that it looked the same as it had the last time he’d visited. It was kept dust-free and neat, his clothes still present and clean in the heavy mahogany wardrobe in the corner of the room. The mattress felt almost too comfortable after his long journey in the saddle. He finally settled in bed, only thanks to the knowledge that merely a wall separated him from Jaskier. 

It was far from the comfort of feeling his companion snuggled into his chest, as he had the habit of doing when they’d slept in the woods. It had been for warmth, of course, but Geralt had never felt that need for physical proximity with anyone else to that extent. He had felt, still did, a lot more for Jaskier, but their friendship had never ventured any further than companionship. It might have been for his cowardice, the fear of driving Jaskier away, or the fear of rejection. The vision of Jaskier standing in a clearing in the woods, playing his beloved lute and singing one of Geralt’s favorite ballads, helped Geralt finally drift off to sleep. 

Geralt woke in the middle of the night and jumped straight to his feet, dirk in hand and ready to kill whoever dared disturb the peace of Jaskier’s home. This place was isolated enough that no sound travelled from the nearest town or neighbours, not unless someone unexpected had come bearing trouble. The noise that had woken him, however, was not a wail from a foul fiend, but a cough. An incessant cough that had come from Jaskier’s room. 

Grabbing a fresh shirt he’d taken out and thrown over a chair earlier, Geralt ran into Jaskier’s room. He pushed the door open with such force that its hinges strained against the frame. He threw himself to kneel next to Jaskier’s bed, making his kneecaps crack as they landed on the hard floor.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded, his hands gently shaking Jaskier by the shoulders. 

“Water…” Jaskier gasped, waving his hand in the direction of the nightstand. The faint light of dawn coming from the window wasn’t necessary for Geralt to see the glass of water there as he grabbed it. He held it to Jaskier’s lips, putting his other hand behind his head to help him swallow. 

After taking two sips, Jaskier patted Geralt’s hand to take the glass away, but he continued to wheeze as Geralt lowered his head back onto the pillow. 

“Are you okay?” Geralt asked, too distraught to hide the terror in his voice. He laid a gentle hand on Jaskier’s chest.

“Yes…” Jaskier coughed once more and took Geralt’s hand in his own. “I’m sick, Geralt.”

“I can go and fetch the healer, anyone, everyone, I—” 

“No.” Jaskier released a dry chuckle. “I’m just old, you can’t cure that; you tried, remember?”

Geralt nodded, sighing in resignation as his free hand moved to rest in Jaskier’s soft silver hair. Jaskier was referring to a time when he’d gotten sick during their travels and Geralt had decided that his heart couldn’t take any more of his friend’s suffering from common illnesses, not to mention, by then, the clear signs of ageing. He’d gone on a quest for a spell, an elixir, anything or anyone who could help him, to no avail. 

“Do you know why I love the view outside so much?” Jaskier spoke again, breaking Geralt from his reverie.

“The mountains?” 

“Yes. Every time I see them, I imagine us climbing those mountains together. I remember every detail of our adventures…” He paused to smile cheekily. “Including how your arse looked in those breeches.”

“What?” Geralt shook his head, unsure if he’d heard right. “Why are you talking like this? Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Ah well, not really, but I'm an old man, Geralt, and I can say whatever I want.”

“Oh? I can’t recall your being young ever having stopped you from doing just that,” Geralt commented dryly.

“It did. My only regret in life was that I never told you sooner. If you’d only gotten my letter, you’d know...” Jaskier’s voice grew soft and he wheezed before he continued. “Now, my heart is weak and might give up any day.”

“No, don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Wait.” Geralt frowned, analysing Jaskier’s words. “What haven’t you told me?” _What could possibly be worse than Jaskier’s constant off-handed comments about his nearing death?_

“Oh Geralt…” Jaskier sighed, shaking his head. “I haven’t told you how I feel, how I've always felt about you,” His voice was clear, and he spoke the words without hesitation.

Geralt frowned, not understanding the meaning hidden behind the cryptic phrasing.

“We had so many decades together until I couldn't travel with you anymore,” Jaskier went on. “Sometimes I think that if I had told you sooner, maybe you would have cut that time short, and some of our adventures would never have come to pass. You were always so skittish. You would accept a friendly touch, even seemed to enjoy it, but nothing more. Not from me.”

“I don’t understand. You’re scaring me, Jaskier.” Geralt leaned closer, smoothing back the hair from Jaskier’s forehead.

“You left them all, all the women... or they left your cantankerous arse sooner or later.” Jaskier’s laugh turned into coughs that shook his whole body. Quickly, Geralt held the glass to Jaskier’s lips so he could take a sip of water. “You left me, too,” the bard continued, growing serious again. “Several times, actually. You were cruel about it only once, but every time it felt like dying. _I_ felt like dying. But you always came back.” He smiled softly, looking up at Geralt with his beautiful topaz eyes. “Until we never left each other again. All that time spent together, side by side, Geralt… those were the best years of my life.”

“They were mine, too.” Geralt placed his palm on Jaskier’s cheek, covered with a neatly trimmed, gray beard. He was still processing the words he’d just heard, while his eyes focused on the too-sharp cheekbones and the wrinkled face that fit perfectly in his hand. 

Jaskier turned his head and placed a kiss to the inside of Geralt’s palm, the small gesture making Geralt’s insides flutter with warmth. When Jaskier looked up again, Geralt caressed his cheek with his thumb, allowing himself the comfort of the simple touch.

“That’s good to know.” Jaskier seemed to enjoy the caress as he smiled, meeting Geralt’s gaze. “I knew my love wasn’t wasted on you, but that’s still good to know.”

Geralt froze. His hand stilled on Jaskier’s face, and he held his breath as his heart seemed to have forgotten how to beat.

“I wanted you to know,” Jaskier continued. “I’ve loved you as a friend since the moment we met, but that feeling grew so much deeper over the years. I love you as a friend, a partner in adventure, a wonderful person, and I love you for... you. With all my body and heart. I always have...” Jaskier took a deep breath and suppressed a cough, his eyes never leaving Geralt’s. 

Geralt couldn’t speak. His lips were unable to move, his throat closed, and his chest constricted with ache as warm affection washed over him. The feelings for Jaskier that he’d had all this time, the feelings that he’d tried so hard to hide by raising walls of sarcasm and roughness, were reciprocated. He couldn’t believe his ears. 

Now he, too, had a similar regret in his life, and it was not admitting those feelings a long time ago. The colour and sunshine that had entered his life in the form of Jaskier’s presence had changed him forever, and it had been the best thing that had ever happened to him. He had been so stupid in how he had handled their relationship, but what mattered was that they were here now. 

He couldn’t stop his body from reacting to the amount of adoration, affection and regret that mixed in his system. Pools of wetness filled his eyes, and he didn’t dare to blink, lest he unleash a flood. The breath he released came out as a sob as he rested his head on Jaskier’s chest, unable to stay away a second longer.

He felt Jaskier’s hand in his hair, a soothing touch that used to put him to sleep when he had nightmares. He’d missed that touch while he’d been away. _How could I have ever left this man only to continue a pointless life alone?_

The words Jaskier had spoken shook him to his core, and he let his tears wet Jaskier’s sheet as his shoulders shook with sobs. 

He let all his emotions and regrets pour out in the form of salty water and felt like he could drown them both in the amount that he had in him to spill. Moments passed and he was lost in his proximity to Jaskier, in his scent and in the memories it evoked. Listening to Jaskier’s heart grounded him in the present and brought him back to reality from analysing their whole life together in his head.

For all those years, they had lost any possibility of intimacy beyond huddling together at night. Now, Geralt wanted all the time Jaskier had left in this world for them to spend together. He would stay with his best friend until his hour came, and when it did, he would be there, no matter how much it would hurt him. And if it hurt him beyond survival, that would be adequate. 

“I never knew the depth of… _that emotion_ until I met you,” Geralt said, his voice choked. He lifted his head to hold Jaskier’s gaze. “I wish I had told you sooner as well.”

“I knew you loved me, but I didn’t know to what extent. I knew you’d risk your life for me and that was more than anyone else had ever offered. It was enough.”

“We could have had more.” He lifted his other hand to cradle Jaskier’s face in both his palms. “I should have given you everything you wanted.”

“Shhh. You did.” Jaskier put his palms over Geralt’s and closed his eyes. “You did.” 

Geralt kissed Jaskier’s forehead, tasting the salt of his own tears that had slid down his face. He hovered hesitantly over his friend’s face before he gently touched his lips to Jaskier’s. 

Jaskier reciprocated the small kiss and a smile curved his lips before his breathing evened. 

Moments later, Geralt was starting to get up when Jaskier spoke again.

“Stay with me, Geralt.” Jaskier’s sleepy whisper reminded him of all the nights and days they’d spent together, and how his body had always immediately responded to Jaskier’s voice, ready to do whatever was asked of him. That hadn’t changed. He wanted to promise that he would stay with him forever now, never leave his side, but then he realised what Jaskier meant when he lifted the corner of his sheet.

“Of course,” was all he managed to say as he slid behind Jaskier and pulled him close to his chest. He chanced a small kiss behind Jaskier’s ear, in the place his unique scent was the strongest. Fond memories filled his senses: the way Jaskier smiled up at him, the way he laughed, the way the sun had always smelled on his skin when they had laid awake at night, looking at the stars and talking until dawn. 

The three words he whispered into Jaskier’s hair became a chant as he said them over and over again until sleep covered them both with a blanket of darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, kudos and comments! 
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, consider subscribing to my profile, or to a series that has all my Geraskier works:  
> ["Ballads of a Witcher and a Bard"](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1710100)  
>   
> You can follow/contact me on:  
> [my Geraskier Twitter](https://twitter.com/CarmillaCarm6)  
> [my Geraskier Tumblr](https://carmillacarmine.tumblr.com/tagged/myfic)  
> [my Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/CarmillaCarmine)  
> 


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